Tomas nodded. “I appreciate yer confidence, Manus, and I swear I will do what I must to see Clan Ruthven remains safe and prosperous.”
“I know you will. Now, I would like to get back to bed, so let’s get this done. Ye need only state your intention to take each other as husband and wife.”
Tomas turned to face Vida, taking both of her hands in his. “I, Tomas MacIan, take ye, Davida Ruthven, to be my wife until we are parted by death and I promise ye I will be true.”
Vida’s smile was like a beacon of light, making the candles he had lit pitifully unnecessary. “I, Davida Ruthven, take you, Tomas MacIan, to be my husband until we are parted by death and I promise you I will be true.”
Tomas leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. “I love ye, Vida MacIan.”
A blush suffused her face. “I love you too, Tomas MacIan.”
Manus cleared his throat. “Well, now that’s taken care of, I’ll return to my chamber.” He glanced towards Tomas’s bed. “And…uh…one last thing. Normally a handfasting should not be…uh…consummated until it has been blessed by the church. That said, an unconsummated handfasting can be set aside, but once consummated it cannot.” He smiled, inclined his head in a slight bow and left.
As the door closed behind Manus, Tomas grinned. “I think we’ve just been instructed to have our wedding night a bit early.
She giggled. “Aye, it would seem so.”
He pulled her into his arms and gave her another kiss. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her warm response pleased him. “Is that what ye wish to do? I mean, I don’t want to push ye, if ye aren’t ready.”
She answered him by pulling him down into another kiss.
“Ye’re so beautiful,” he said as he ran his hands softly over her back and down her sides, ending the journey by cupping her breasts in his hands. “And ye taste so sweet.” He continued the gentle assault on her mouth, sliding his tongue over hers then lightly sucking on her lower lip. He opened her dressing gown. She wore only a silk shift. He gently rubbed his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them pebble beneath the soft fabric. She gave a low moan, leaning into his touch.
He slid the dressing gown over her shoulders, allowing it to puddle on the floor. Then he kissed her again as he untied the ribbons of her shift, pushing it over her shoulders and off. Stepping back, he gazed at her for a moment. “So beautiful,” he repeated.
She flushed under his gaze, but made no move to cover herself. Instead, she unbound her hair from its braid before stepping back towards him. “Ye have me at a bit of a disadvantage.” She removed the plaid he had donned so hastily, dropping it on the pile of her clothes.
Her small hands roamed over his chest and shoulders; the feather-light touch inflamed him even through the fabric of his léine.
He too explored her body with his hands, scarcely able to believe she was his.
She gave a little shiver.
“Ye’re cold.”
“Nay, I just like the way that feels.”
He lifted her into his arms anyway and carried her to the bed, laying her gently on it. “Still, ye’ll be warmer here.” But he couldn’t help taking a step back to simply gaze on her again. She was a vision. Her hair a silk cushion under her delicate, lushly-curved body. He drank in the exquisite sight and, although her blush deepened, she didn’t look away from him. “My lovely bride, ye please me so.” She smiled and her green eyes sparkled.
He pulled off his léine, smiling when he heard her soft intake of breath. Climbing into bed beside her, he pulled the covers up over them both and gently stroked the length of her body, planting soft kisses on her face. As she relaxed into his touch, his lips moved to her neck, making her purr with pleasure. Then he continued his journey to her silky shoulder, before finally capturing a nipple lightly with his mouth and suckling gently.
As he continued to gently lave her pert nipple, she murmured, “Mmmm, I like that.”
“I thought ye might.” His hand trailed down her stomach until he reached the nest of curls hiding her womanhood. “Ye might like this too.” His fingers stroked her softly, and he smiled at the slightly surprised look on her face.
Within moments, she closed her eyes and writhed against him as he massaged the sensitive spot between her legs. Her breath came in short gasps. He could feel the tension building in her, so he stopped.
Her eyes flew open. “Why did you stop?”
“Because, my beautiful bride, anticipation makes everything better.” He kissed her and began caressing her again. He set a pace that had her arching towards him, wanting more, but not quite enough to allow her to find release. She looked as if were lost in some other world. It was the most erotically beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Finally, when she had hovered on the edge so long he knew the slightest change in touch would send her over, he knelt between her legs and entered her. Her eyes flew open, but if she felt any discomfort, it didn’t show. She rose to meet him.
“Oh, Tomas…”
Her frenzied movements drove him to increase his pace.
“Let it go, Vida,” he whispered and she shattered in his arms, crying out his name again. As the waves of her climax shuddered through her body, Tomas too found his relief, filling her with his seed. Panting, he rested his forehead on hers and whispered, “Vida.” It was almost a supplication.
He shifted his weight to the side and held her to him, still joined.
She ran her hands lightly down his arms and across his chest. He captured one of her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. “Are ye all right?”
“Oh, aye. More than all right.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“I didn’t hurt ye overmuch?”
She looked confused. “Hurt me? Nay.” She frowned. “But it’s supposed to hurt a lass, isn’t it?”
Pleased, he chuckled. “Not if ye do it right.”
She gave him a wicked grin. “Well, I won’t ask where ye learned, but clearly ye do it right.”
He pulled out of her gently and she turned on her side, snuggling against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “I love the feel of ye in my arms.”
“I love being in yer arms. I hate to leave.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Why would ye leave?”
She sighed. “Because if I wait until morning, I’m likely to run into someone. We’re keeping this a secret for a few days, remember?”
He groaned. “Oh, Vida, I’m sorry. I don’t like the idea of ye sneaking back to yer chamber, as if we’ve done something wrong. But I wouldn’t see ye shamed for anything.”
“It will only be a few days and I’ll sleep in your arms every night for the rest of our lives.”
“Aye, my love. For the rest of our lives.”
Chapter 18
Perth, December 23, 1378
That morning Ambrose Ruthven had received word that the sheriff would reconvene court an hour before sext. Now, just as they had yesterday, he and Gregor waited for the sheriff to call them in. Ambrose hadn’t slept at all the previous night. He was tired and his heart ached. He had likely lost his precious daughter. She was probably well on her way to the Highlands by now. He might never see her again and he hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.
When the sheriff finally assembled all parties, he asked, “Laird Ruthven, I must ask again, were you able to secure the remaining funds needed to pay your debt to Laird Lindsay?”
Ambrose shook his head. “Nay, I was not. Not as yet.”
The sheriff nodded. “Well then, Laird Ruthven, given that you do not have sufficient funds to pay your debt and you are not expecting additional funds to arrive before the debt is due, I can only agree with Laird Lindsay. The wedding of your daughter before a debt on which you are very likely to default is due is an attempt to circumvent the verbal agreement.”
“But, my Lord Sheriff—”
“Do not interrupt me. Therefore, I am forced to rule
that a betrothal exists between your daughter and Naughton Lindsay and she is not free to wed anyone else.”
The look of glee on Naughton’s face sickened Ambrose.
“But, Sir Naughton,” qualified the sheriff, “you may not act on that betrothal until after the first day of January and if, by some miracle, Laird Ruthven is able to pay you the full amount he owes before the last day of December, a betrothal will no longer be valid.”
Laird Lindsay blustered, “The man has already admitted he cannot pay the debt, my brother should be allowed to take his bride immediately.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Laird Lindsay, make no mistake, I understand perfectly what happened here. Marriage to Davida Ruthven brings with it a title and lands any man would covet. I do believe Laird Ruthven thought your brother’s comment was a jest and perhaps if the men present as witnesses that night had not all been your close allies, they might agree with me. Therefore, I am taking the remainder of the agreement at face value too. The debt has not yet come due and until it does or it has been paid off, Lady Davida Ruthven will marry no one. However,” he turned his attention back to Ambrose, “If you are unable to pay your debt and you do something to prevent the wedding, you will go to debtors’ prison. And I will petition the king to grant your lands and title to Naughton Lindsay.”
The Lindsays were jubilant.
Ambrose was stunned. He had just lost everything. As soon as he received word that Davida had indeed fled to the Highlands with Tomas, he would board one of his ships and flee Scotland.
Then a voice sounded from behind him. “Excuse me, my Lord Sheriff. I have some information that you will want to hear.”
Ambrose turned around to see Tomas had entered the hall, accompanied by a priest and a young boy. His heart fell. If Tomas was here, he hadn’t taken Vida to safety. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You had orders.”
“Aye, sir, but this will change everything.”
The same called for order. “Who are you and what is this new information? Has the missing ship arrived?”
“My lord, I am Sir Tomas MacHenry, the commander of Laird Ruthven’s guard and nay, the Mermaid Queen will never return.”
“You are the man to whom Laird Ruthven intended to marry his daughter?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“And how do you know what happened to the Mermaid Queen?”
“I was placed in charge of Cotharach when Laird Ruthven was called to appear here. Yesterday, this Trinitarian priest, Father Owen, and this young lad, Will, arrived at Cotharach with tale of such treachery it boggles the mind. Ye see, sir, Will was the cabin boy on board the Mermaid Queen. According to him, the ship was pirated by none other than the captain of the Salty Swan, one of Naughton Lindsay’s ships.”
Everyone in the room began talking and shouting. The sheriff’s voice carried over all the others calling for order.
Ambrose was dumbstruck. Tomas had saved him once again.
When the sheriff was finally able to bring the proceedings to order, he listened to the story Will and Father Owen told. He asked questions and shouted down the Lindsays several times. In the end, he sat speechless, seemingly stunned by the story.
Finally, he addressed Naughton Lindsay. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“It’s all lies. I had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Are you suggesting, based only on your assertion, that I should believe a holy priest fabricated this story and is lying to me? Don’t dig a deeper hole by perjuring yourself. The lad was on the ship, and Father Owen witnessed the sale of the rest of the crew to a slave trader. He also spoke to Captain Lowther, who tells the same story as the lad.” He turned to Laird Lindsay. “Were you aware of your brother’s perfidy?”
“Nay, my lord, I was not.”
“Well then, regarding Laird Ambrose Ruthven’s debt, while I suspect that your brother may have cheated to arrange the whole gambling loss, I have no proof of that, so the debt stands. But I am ordering it be deducted from the total value of the goods pirated and the lost ship. The remaining funds will be returned to Laird Ruthven. Any perceived betrothal between Naughton Lindsay and Davida Ruthven is now void. Additionally, I am ordering you, Laird Lindsay, to supply the Trinitarian’s with every farthing that was required to free the Mermaid Queen’s crew and return them home to Scotland. Furthermore, I am declaring the captain and crew of the Salty Swan guilty of piracy and ordering their arrest should they ever be found on Scottish soil. Finally, Naughton Lindsay, I find you guilty of conspiring with pirates. Piracy itself is punishable by death, but the decision as to what becomes of you belongs to the crown. I am ordering that you be detained in the king’s prison until such time as the king can hear the particulars of this case.”
And with that it was over.
Ambrose could scarcely believe it. The debt had been eliminated, there was no longer any threat to Vida, and he would even be reimbursed for the loss of his ship. He embraced his young commander. “Tomas, how can I ever thank you? You are my savior, the best thing that ever happened to Clan Ruthven. Come let’s get out of here.” Ambrose turned and walked towards the door.
~ * ~
Tomas followed Laird Ambrose until they were outside, surprised to hear Ambrose start to blather on about the money he’d lost. “Now, if you could just figure out how to get that gambling debt back from Lindsay…I shouldn’t have had to pay that cur anything. I’m certain he cheated. He doesn’t deserve a single farthing of it. We’ll put our heads together and maybe we can figure out a way to get that gold back.”
Tomas listened to Laird Ruthven with incredulity. The man’s greed knew no bounds. Now was the time. He had to step in for Vida and the good of the clan.
“Laird Ruthven, by the grace of God, ye will neither be destitute nor will yer daughter have to marry a man as reprehensible as Naughton Lindsay. But it has taken ye mere minutes to begin scheming a way around the Lord Sheriff’s judgement. Ye’ve already forgotten how very close to disaster ye brought the clan, not to mention the callous disregard ye showed Vida.”
“Disregard? I didn’t…I never.”
“Stop. Ye did and ye know ye did. This didn’t happen by accident. Ye were greedy. Pure and simple. Ye thought ye had the chance to win a huge bet and that was the only thing guiding yer actions that night. Ye were so certain of winning, ye wanted that loan at all costs. Look into yer conscience, man. Ye can’t tell me ye believed Lindsay would have given ye the loan if ye’d pushed back about the betrothal.”
“I…I…”
“Ye know I’m right.”
“But everything worked out.”
“That doesn’t excuse what ye did,” roared Tomas.
“Nay, but…”
“There are no ‘buts.’ Ye have not been a good leader for Clan Ruthven. Ye’ve left it to others to manage. First yer wife, then yer steward and yer daughter. Had ye never sought that loan, ye’d still be in dire straits at this moment because ye didn’t see to the training of yer men. In fact, I suspect if Lindsay hadn’t been able to trick ye into a betrothal with the loan, he would have laid siege by now. Cotharach and yer title were always his goal. If he’d done that, ye and many of yer people would be dead and yer daughter would be in that bastard’s hands.”
Ambrose paled. “I thought…that is…I gave it my best effort.”
“But ye didn’t. Ye said as much to me. Ye said ye weren’t trained to lead the clan, Ainsley was. Ye built a successful business and continued to put yer focus there even after ye had wrested the title of laird for yerself.”
“How do ye know—”
“I just do.”
“Fine, but why are ye berating me? You don’t need to worry about it anymore. We don’t have to rush this wedding. You don’t even have to marry her. In fact, it might be better if I sought a betrothal with a nobleman.”
Tomas simply stared. Vida had seen this coming. It was no wonder the lass couldn’t be bested at chess. S
he read men’s moves.
“Aye, a nobleman would be a good choice,” continued Ambrose.
“So, what you told the clan about me being the best man to become laird wasn’t true.”
“Well, it was true at the time. But I should consider other options now.”
“You should consider the son of a nobleman?”
“Aye, exactly. I know you’re fond of her and she’s fond of you, but politics are politics.” The expression on Ambrose’s face suggested he was pleased Tomas saw the wisdom of that.
Tomas chuckled. “Well, laird, I have a bit of a surprise for ye then.”
Ambrose smiled. “Another surprise? I can’t wait to hear.”
“Really? That’s good to know. I won’t make ye wait then. I am not Sir Tomas MacHenry, one of Laird Carr’s guardsmen.”
“What? You lied to me? You are not a knight?”
“I am most assuredly a knight, and I was born Tomas, son of Henry, but I was adopted at the age of seven.”
“Ah, well, that really doesn’t make a difference then, my boy. Whoever adopted you must have seen what a fine man you’d become.”
Tomas couldn’t suppress a smile. It was probably wicked, but he was enjoying this. “I’m glad you think so.”
“But why did you hide this from me.”
“Because ye know my parents. Ye know my mother very well. And I thought if I told ye who she was, it might change yer mind about me.”
A look of shocked realization crossed his face. “You aren’t…you couldn’t be, could you? Are you Moibeal’s son by Raghnall Napier? The one who supposedly died as a child?”
Tomas shook his head. “Nay, Laird. I’m not Moibeal’s son, back from the dead. That would make Vida my half-sister and I never would have agreed to marry her. Besides, I’ve already told ye, my father’s name was Henry. Nay, I am the son of a stable hand, but I was adopted by Laird and Lady MacIan. My mother was born Katherine Ruthven.”
Highland Redemption: A Duncurra Legacy Novel Page 16
